


Ukiyoe

by Dargelos (Dargie)



Category: Highlander (1986 1991 1994 2000 2007)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-12
Updated: 2010-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 05:29:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dargie/pseuds/Dargelos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Easter, there are some great old movies on TV and Amanda knows where to get great Chinese.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ukiyoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SVE](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=SVE).



"It wasn't like that at all."

"Shut up, Methos." Duncan had already heard the sentence at least a thousand times that day, and he made his response automatically.

"We never dressed like that. Gold lamé was unknown in the nineteenth dynasty."

"Shut up, Methos," Mac said and took a sip of beer.

"Besides that wasn't Moses Seti liked best it was me."

"Shu…what?" He caught the impish grin. "Is there any more popcorn?" They were lying in bed watching The Ten Commandments. It was Easter Sunday, everything on earth was closed and they'd spent the day watching old movies and indulging in sex-on-demand. Easter Parade had been the morning movie with omlettes a la Methos, toast, coffee and a big plate of fruit ("Carmen Miranda's Easter bonnet.") that they picked at all through the film.

They burned off breakfast with a long bout of rough-and-ready sex during Demetrius and the Gladiators, during which Methos drove Mac crazy by dubbing him "Gluteus Maximus," begging to be conquered and shouting "Do it to me, Centurion!" in English and in Latin. And "Plow my Appian Way!" which put MacLeod completely off his stroke and nearly got Methos strangled.

"Sorry, watching Jay Robinson as Caligula always gets me going," Methos explained. "He wasn't really like that, you know."

"Shut up, Methos."

Finally, they settled in to watch Ben Hur, sated, sticky and comfortable in MacLeod's new bed.

"What d'you think about the subtext?" Methos asked as he nibbled a slightly squashed strawberry. The sheets were starting to look ratty with spilled and mashed food and stiff with various bodily fluids..

"Subtext?"

Methos looked at him pityingly. "Messala and Judah?"

"What?"

"Duncan, haven't you ever seen this before?"

"Yeah, sure I have."

"Then you haven't paid attention."

And sure enough, once it was pointed out to him, he saw it clearly. And he feared for his sanity. "I never used to notice this stuff," Mac groaned. "You're perverting me."

Methos's smile was patronizing. "Just bringing you into a greater understanding of the human condition."

"Oh, fuck you."

"mmmm So what do you think Arrius wants with Judah?" he asked later, as Duncan tried to balance the impressive sight of Heston in a very scanty slave costume with Duncan's vague mental image of him as some biblical elder.

MacLeod was caught between a bubble of laughter and despair for his cinematic innocence. "Stop it."

"Why else would Arrius 'adopt' him?" Methos bit his bare shoulder.

"Ow, stop it! I'm trying to watch this sex film you insisted on watching," Duncan complained.

"I'm trying to make a point here," Methos told him, and turned Duncan's head so they were looking at each other instead of the television.

"And what's that?"

"That you're beautiful, that I would adopt you in a hot minute if I had the chance." He kissed Mac, who steeled himself against the urge to respond by getting Methos into a headlock and fucking his brains out. He just stared at Methos.

"Oh Mac, don't tell me you're out of steam already."

Mac cleared his throat. "A certain young Scotsman from Ransome/ Had his friend seven times in a hansom./ Methos shouted for more,/ But Mac said from the floor,/ The name, sir, is Simpson, not Samson."

Methos looked delighted. "Mac! You made a dirty joke!"

"Isaac Asimov wrote it," Mac admitted. "Sort of."

"Doesn't matter, you told a dirty joke, a dirty limerick no less. My god, I'm so proud!"

Mac covered his face with his hands. "You think I'm a prig!" he moaned.

"Nooooo, no one who fucks like you do is a prig. You're just…verbally repressed is all."

"Verbally repressed! Oh nooooooooo." He found he was enjoying this. For once, Methos couldn't tell if he was serious or not, and looked so confused that MacLeod burst out laughing and pulled his lover into a long kiss. "Verbally repressed my testicles, ye daft bugger!" he shouted as he got Methos into that headlock.

They finished that particular session in time to watch Messala die. "Always felt sorry for the poor bastard," Methos admitted. He grabbed Duncan's hair and said, "Judah, Judah, run me over with your chariot so I know you love me."

"You really are a lunatic. Please don't make me run you over with the T-Bird, okay?"

"Okay," the old man agreed.

Duncan was feeling sort of sticky and gritty by the time Moses' true identity as the child of slaves was exposed, but Methos promised him they'd share a shower after it ended, so he resigned himself to feeling like he'd been dipped in caramel and rolled in nuts for the duration of the film.

"It was Ben Hur. All that dust."

"I thought it was the popcorn, pizza and pints of ice cream you dragged in here."

Methos looked affronted. "I need my strength for the exodus from Egypt."

"There's popcorn in the sheets. I think there's pepperoni down here, too."

"I know that," Methos said, licking the ice cream spoon. "Dried spooge, too."

"Spooge?"

"Old Egyptian term for a certain bodily fluid."

"I'm sure," Duncan agreed, marveling at how clean and well-tailored everyone looked except for the slaves. "Now I would be willing to bet that no one wore eye makeup that color in the nineteenth dynasty."

"No but we did manage to get nicely tarted up when the need arose." The phone rang and Methos answered. "Lo? Oh hi. Nothing, just watching old movies." He laughed. "Yes, okay, that too."

"Who is it?"

"Quite a lot, really. Yes. Ten Commandments. No. No. I might have mentioned it. What do you mean, "bald-faced lie?" Like you're in a position to know? I think not."

"Who is it?" Duncan asked again and Methos shushed him.

"I never said that, I just said that Cecil B. DeMille played fast and loose with some facts of my life including my name. Oh right, Ms. I-know-everything. Prove it."

Duncan grabbed for the phone and Methos slapped his fingers.

"Like you've never told lies about your life? And anyway, I haven't been lying. All I do is improve on literal truth to bring it in line with a higher truth."

Duncan lunged for the phone, knocking the carton of ice cream against Methos's bare skin. The smaller man yelped and the phone flew across the room.

"Oh man, talk about spooge," Methos groaned as he scraped ice cream off himself and the sheets. "Amanda is going to think we're insane."

"It's Amanda?"

"Who else?"

"Well why didn't you say so?"

"I would have. You're so impatient." He fished for the phone. "Amanda? Yeah, yeah. No, Mac just shoved a carton of ice cream against my crotch."

"Ohmygod" Duncan moaned.

"Well so can he so don't even try to be lewder than thou art, okay? Look, Barabbas is on after this, or Song of Bernadette. Why don't you come on over and watch it with us?" He listened intently while he licked ice cream off a corner of the pillowcase. "No, it's a new bed. Huge. Big enough for a picnic. Yeah."

"Ohmygod" Duncan repeated.

"No. No." Methos started to laugh. "Not if you don't get your sweet bottom over here there won't be. Oh and bring Chinese food. Lots of it, we're starving." He hung up the phone and said, "Don't say ohmygod again, Duncan. It's just Amanda. Let's change the sheets, she hates dirty sheets."

"You don't want to watch the end of the movie? Wait, how do you know she hates dirty sheets?" Duncan asked as he climbed out of bed and began to strip off the filthy linen.

"They all pack up and go off looking for Israel, the Red Sea parts for them, Ramesses, who was really that big a pain in the ass by the way, goes home, they wander around, are disobedient, God punishes them, Moses' hair and beard get progressively whiter and foofier, they find the Jordan, the end. Go start the shower; I'll be along in a minute."

"Methos, have you and Amanda…"

"Duncan!"

"What?"

"Gentlemen don't kiss and tell, remember?"

"So you have slept with her?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't deny it."

"Duncan! Go start the shower!"

Muttering darkly, Duncan started the water and got a pile of towels from the linen cabinet. The idea of having Amanda over made him feel a little crawly inside, but Methos had been so tractable lately that it seemed sensible just to go along with his whims. But then he assumed that Methos had been joking with her; surely the old man wouldn't have invited Amanda over to do more than eat dinner and watch a movie.

"You look pensive," Methos observed as he rounded the corner into the bathroom.

"Biblical epics are starting to back up on me."

"Me too, though I confess I eat them like candy. Anyway I called Amanda back and told her to stop and rent something non-biblical. Happy?"

"A lot happier, thank you." Duncan backed Methos into the shower. "I made it extra hot, the way you like it," he murmured, shoving Methos under the spray and capturing him in a kiss at the same time. He loved the feel of water-slicked Methos in his arms, sleek as an otter, with that faint, warm, indefinable Methos-scent rising from his wet skin. He loved the way his hands slid over sharp angles as if they were curves, the way the water made hard muscle seem pliant. Water made him feel yielding and loose as if sex was just another bit of the ritual of the bath – scrubbing each other's backs, washing each other's hair, stroking each other off in the easy comfort of the hot spray. Holding each other up afterwards, laughing a little, and for some reason, oddly moved, a rush of both love and wistful sadness threatening his emotional equilibrium, oddly touched by the most perfect imperfections of his lover.

Methos left the shower first, wrapped himself in towels and went off to make the bed. Duncan turned off the water, once again grateful for the presence of mind that had made him buy a very large hot water heater and stacks of fluffy towels. He wrapped himself in a towel, and threw one over his head.

In the steam on the mirror, Methos had written "I love you." Ephemeral statement of affection and need from the world's most permanent resident.

They were both dressed and sitting up on the bed watching the plagues roll across Egypt ("I remember the locusts; talk about disgusting.") when Amanda arrived hauling two shopping bags full of food.

"How much did you buy?"

"Duncan, now I know what you two have been up to all day and I was sure you'd need your energy so I brought a very nice selection of dishes from that lovely restaurant down the street. I told them to put it on your tab; I knew you wouldn't mind. Hello, darling," she said and kissed Methos on the cheek.

"I hope you brought hot and sour soup for me."

"How could I forget?" She dragged one bag over to the bed. "I think we could do with a cloth."

"We can eat at the table," Duncan protested.

"Methos promised me a picnic in front of the television. I've been so bored all day. If I'd known you two were staying in bed having wild sex and watching old movies I'd have come over sooner."

Methos threw a square of oilcloth across the bedspread and tossed three pair of chopsticks onto it. "Ah, the I Ching says that this meal will be fortuitous."

Duncan rolled his eyes.

"I brought a couple of movies, but if this is the end of The Ten Commandments I'd just as soon watch that while we eat. I had to miss the middle of it getting over here, and I just love the dress Nefertiri wears in her last scene."

"Her hair is really good too." Methos handed Duncan a plate. "Amanda and I share a passion for epics."

"Among other things," Amanda added and they grinned toothily at each other.

So Mac found himself sitting cross-legged on the bed, eating dim sum and watching the end of the movie, with Methos' commentary often drowning out the narrative. In fact the only time Methos and Amanda were both silent was when Yul Brynner was on screen.

"Ohmygod," Amanda sighed as the last scene of Ramesses and his queen faded. "The dress, the man…be still my beating heart."

"Sex on a stick, both of them," Methos agreed.

Duncan was delighted by the orgy scene and how innocent it all seemed.

The film ended just before they cracked open the entrees. "What did you get at the video store?" Methos asked, hunting for the cartons of rice.

"And whose account did you put it on?" Mac inquired.

"You are such a cynic, Duncan. Well I thought we'd get away from the biblical theme entirely and watch something fun. I got Victor/Victoria..."

Methos was enthusiastic. "Oh great, I haven't seen that in ages."

"And two of my personal favorites, My Beautiful Laundrette and Desert Hearts."

"What are those about?" Mac asked.

"You'll see, darling."

"I sense another theme taking shape." Methos passed a container of rice to Mac as Amanda put Victor/Victoria into the tape player.

It was a perfect choice, Mac decided as he lay back and put his plate on his chest. And Methos was right, the bed was big enough for a picnic. Amanda sang along with some of the songs, and even got Methos and Mac singing "Oh give me a home…" along with the film. By the time Toddy took to the stage in Victoria's place, Mac was howling with laughter.

"That was wonderful!" he admitted. "Great choice, Amanda."

Amanda curled up against him as Methos cleared the empty food containers off the bed. "Hadn't you seen it before?"

"Never. I mean I knew what it was about. Are the others this good?"

"As good and even better in some ways," she promised, kissing his cheek. Methos cleared his throat.

"What?"

"Just don't start without me."

At that, Duncan decided that cowardice was the route he wanted to take at that moment, and he sat up and slid off the bed. "Bathroom," he said.

"Can I hold it while you pee?" Amanda called after him. Mac flushed to the tips of his ears and was heartily glad neither of them could see him or their laughter would have been even more disheartening. Was he the only person in the place with a sense of…of…well, propriety? And of course the minute he formed the word in his mind he cringed at feeling like such a blue-stocking. After four hundred years he should have outgrown his innate prissiness.

They were still laughing when he came out. "I'm glad you're deriving such amusement at my expense."

"That's not it at all, darling, it's just that Methos said I could hold his instead."

"You willna!" Duncan snapped, his burr suddenly coming to the fore, and causing the two of them to collapse in hysterics. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Aye, ya did," Methos agreed, imitating Mac's accent. "Come on and sit down. The one about the laundry is up next. I haven't seen it either."

"I'm sure you boys will like it, Amanda promised. She settled between them, clicked the remote and the tape began to play.

It wasn't what Duncan expected. It was funnier, sadder, harder-edged than he would have expected from Amanda. The theme didn't surprise him after the byplay that had been going on all through dinner, but the intensity of it affected him in a way he hadn't expected.

He watched as Johnny and Omar played out their affair against any chance that they could come through intact, and there was something about them, about their tight little circle of two, that struck at Mac's heart.

It wasn't so much that he identified with that isolation, but rather that as he watched them he sensed how rare a thing love between such different personalities could be, how likely it was to change in a moment, like the passing of a summer storm. The moment when the boys lay in each other's arms, sharing a mouthful of champagne wasn't just erotic, it was almost a triumph.

Duncan turned to look at Methos, and found that he was being stared at. The green-gold eyes were heavy, slanted with sexual heat, which wasn't surprising considering how often it had risen between them during the day. Without thought they closed the gap between them, squashing Amanda who had the sense to keep her mouth shut. Had she made a single sound, Duncan knew he'd have pulled away. But silence abetted him, and the feel of Methos' mouth on his, the fire the peppers had left on the old man's lips was aphrodisiac enough that the feel of Amanda sliding out from between them became an encouragement.

Methos pulled him into his arms, never breaking the long kiss. Mac felt Amanda undressing them. The lights went out, Mac pulled Amanda's dress over her head, Methos unzipped Mac's jeans.

There was nothing between them he couldn't welcome, his body knew that even if his mind held on to shreds of outraged propriety. Put the talking self on hold, MacLeod, and feel, feel the softness of Amanda's skin and the heat of Methos. Feel the glide of body against body, lips, tongue and teeth, feel hands caressing, fingertips searching out each new erogenous zone. Two sets of hands fondled him, two sets of fingers probed and teased, offering pleasure, pain and again pleasure until he hardly knew which was which.

Not one of them spoke, and in the background the film played itself out as surely as their loving did. It was their soundtrack, their dialogue. Mac could taste the two of them, their scents mingled inside his head like the bouquet of a good whisky; soap, perfume, Chinese food and musk, intoxicating beyond anything. Slick wetness, sweet, salty, bitter and peppery by turns.

Mac slid into the familiar warmth of Amanda, drawing her up into his arms, holding her close as the old man knelt behind her. Mac felt him enter, heard Amanda's throaty cry as her body yielded to a second penetration. And then there was the feel of Methos lying hard against his own erection, separated by such a fragile barrier. Amanda shivered, arched back to claim a kiss from Methos. Mac bent and rubbed the tip of his tongue against one tight nipple while Methos' fingers stroked the other.

Mac pushed upward and both Amanda and Methos groaned softly. "I can't move," she whispered. "Duncan, please…" and she slumped against his shoulder, mouth open against the curve of muscle, teeth grazing his skin. Methos leaned forward and pulled Mac into a deep kiss, hips shifting, pulling back and pushing deep again, deep and slow, mouth so wet and giving, hands hot on his lover, on Amanda; back, breasts, shoulders, faces, searching out the secrets of the moment.

Energy flowed through them and around them like a quickening. It spiked up MacLeod's spine, inside his head, behind his eyes and in his belly, balls and cock. He felt like a conduit, like a lightning rod for sex, drawing it into himself, absorbing, grounding the enormous rush of power. The energy of both enclosed Mac, pulsing, shifting, rising, until he could feel Amanda climaxing first in hard, shuddering waves, her fingers digging into Mac's flesh, her teeth clamped on Methos' thumb. Sobbing. MacLeod felt the waves rush through her as her body closed tight around him over and over. Close, he was so close…

Methos then, hard, clinging to the others like a man who is certain he is falling to his death. One hand cupped Amanda's face, the other gripped Mac's thigh. So quiet; the tension in him released in a low growl like thunder and a rush of heat.

Finally MacLeod, head thrown back, throat bared to both, howling, giving voice to all three as their hands held him, stroked his flesh, encouraging, approving.

"Yes."

"Oh, yes."

He lost himself. All there was left were his nerve endings, flashing like Fourth of July sparklers.

And after a long while: "I feel…so…good." Still connected.

Euphoria gave way to more practical considerations. "My feet are asleep."

Laughing, they disconnected. Mac kissed them both and lay back against the pillows. He was aware of some bumping and shifting, but was too tired to pay much attention to it. He dozed. When he woke, Methos lay beside him and he and Amanda were watching another film.

It looked like another film. Two women were making love. He really would have to watch this again when he wasn't so tired. And Methos wasn't really watching the film so much as watching Amanda who lay with her legs spread, hands busy giving herself pleasure he knew neither of them could ever give her.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Methos murmured. Duncan shifted until he lay with his head on the old man's shoulder. "Women are so amazing."

After a few delicious minutes he was dropping off again. Maybe she'd stay for breakfast. Maybe they could all take the day off and rent a few more films.

And wasn't the new bed… just…perfect?

**Author's Note:**

> From the Floating World, 5/8/1998


End file.
